


into the jungle

by Cavengari



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Borderline Personality Disorder, F/F, maggie deals with her existence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 04:25:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9963662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cavengari/pseuds/Cavengari
Summary: “I just feel worthless sometimes, you know? Like I could disappear and it wouldn’t matter at all. And when I think about it like that, it just seems like I don’t matter. Like there’s no point in me being alive.”or;Maggie's having some trouble existing. Alex won't let her disappear.





	1. when rome starts to fall

All her life, a _ll her life,_ Maggie Sawyer has tried to do the right thing.

And usually, things work out. Usually, the criminal is caught, the wrong is righted, the bad in the world crumbles _just a little bit more_.

Usually, she manages to do something right.

Usually, but not always.

* * *

It’s not like she’s nervous.

No, Maggie Sawyer does not get nervous. She’s a detective. She’s investigated, tracked, and fought aliens, for fuck’s sake. So this? This is nothing. If anyone’s nervous, it should be Alex.

Only Alex _is_ nervous.

And that’s terrifying.

Maggie was fourteen when she was outed. Her father had yelled _so much_ and practically thrown her out the door. Her mother had watched in terror, afraid to lose her daughter but more afraid to upset her husband. And then she had been alone. So yeah, her parents’ reactions were… less than desireable, but after that she never hid her interest in girls and she was never ashamed of who she was.

But Alex… Alex is a whole different story. Maggie doesn’t know what Alex went through, doesn’t understand the struggles of being… _ashamed_ of your sexuality.

Maybe that’s not the right way to put it. She doesn’t know.

When she was sixteen, she got her first girlfriend. Kate was a grade above her, full of pride and confidence. Everything she’d learned about coming out, she’d learned from Kate. They’d broken up in Maggie’s junior year, when Kate told her that she didn’t show enough affection.

And that was another thing — affection.

Maggie doesn’t understand it. Not really, anyway. Being close to someone, it feels great, but being affectionate is too complex. There are so many different ways of showing love — romantic love, friendly love, familial love — and Maggie doesn’t _understand_ , she doesn’t know how to _do_ that. She didn’t have many friends in college, and in high school nobody dared hug or even touch anyone else for fear of a romantic misunderstanding. And her family, they never gave her much more than a pat on the back or the occasional kiss for good luck.

But Alex grew up in a house full of love. She had parents who hugged and kissed her all the time. She had Kara, the world’s brightest, happiest fucking ray of sunshine and goodness ever. She probably had friends who weren’t afraid of sharing a bed or sitting close to each other.

Maggie sighs. She doesn’t deserve Alex. Especially not now, when everything’s so new and so exciting. And yet…

Whatever. She’s not nervous.

She’s just acting with caution.

Her phone rings once, twice, three times before Alex picks up. Maggie half expects another “ _Danvers_ ,” moment, but instead she gets “Hey, Maggie. What’s up?”

Maggie pulls the zipper halfway up on her leather jacket. “Danvers. We never got a real first date.”

 _Stupid_ . _That was a stupid way to put it_.

She tugs the zipper back down.

“No, I guess we didn’t,” Alex agrees. She sounds _so confused_ and Maggie’s heart just shatters right then and there because Alex is such a small gay fledgling, and if she gets any cuter Maggie’s probably gonna have to hang up before she has a heart attack.

“So I was thinking…” The zipper goes up, then quickly down again. “We should have dinner tomorrow night. Make up for lost time.”

There’s a long silence on Alex’s end and _oh god oh god, look at how badly you’ve fucked this up, Sawyer, what the fuck are you gonna do now?_

“Maggie?”

“Wh— yeah?”

“Were you listening? I said I thought that would be great.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Maggie sighs quietly. “Great. I’ll pick you up, then. We can have a late dinner. How’s eight?”

“That works, but you really don’t—”

“If you think I’m gonna meet you there, you’re insane.”

Alex huffs. “Well I was going to say _I_ could pick _you_ up.”

Maggie chuckles. “No way in hell am I letting you drive me around, Danvers.”

“Fine. I guess I’ll see you at eight then.”

“Wear something nice.”

And with that, the call is over. Maggie lets herself relax, slumping further into the couch. _That was a dumb way to end the call. What if she thinks you don’t like the way she normally looks?_

And then she’s spiraling again, because Maggie is Alex’s first girlfriend, _ever_ , and she’s probably more sensitive to what Maggie thinks of her, and _what if she starts to dress differently, I really like the way she dresses now_.

Maggie groans in frustration and covers her face with her hands. When did being the confident one become so stressful?

* * *

She wakes up on the couch.

Whatever. It’s more comfortable than her bed, and it’s closer to the kitchen, too, which means she doesn’t have to travel as far for her routine breakfast of cereal and coffee.

It’s Sunday, which means she has the entire day to plan her date with Alex (assuming she doesn’t get put on an extra case again). Maggie already knows where she wants to take her — a cozy Italian place called Sotto. Thankfully, everyone seems to like Italian food, so this is one thing she doesn’t have to worry about.

She still has to pick out her outfit, which shouldn’t be a problem since Alex seems to think she looks great in whatever she wears (which is actually kind of nice, considering the fact that nobody else ever really liked her style).

Now comes the scary part — topics of conversation. With past girlfriends, Maggie had always been able to talk about work, but Alex’s job is just so much more _interesting_ than her own. Besides, work had always seemed to be a killing factor in her old relationships, so maybe she should steer clear of that for a bit.

But what else can she talk about? The weather is too desperate (and it’s always sunny in National City, anyway) and she knows for a fact that Alex doesn’t care about sports. She tries to think of something, _anything_ they could talk about, but she really can’t come up with anything, and Eva Ibbotson’s _Island of the Aunts_ is calling to her.

Eventually she decides that if she can come up with three conversation topics, she can leave the rest to chance and go read. The first two actually come pretty easily — good TV shows and non-work-related hobbies. The third takes a bit longer, but eventually she scribbles down _childhood dreams_ and all but launches herself across the room, ready to disappear into Ibbotson’s world of fantasy.

* * *

Time moves much faster than Maggie thinks it should. Still, she can’t deny the fact that she’s excited. A real date. And with Alex Danvers, no less.

She pulls up to Alex’s apartment at seven fifty-three. She’s not sure if she should go up or just wait downstairs, but people keep giving her funny looks as they walk by, so she decides to head up. She plays with the snaps on her sleeve as the elevator rises.

_Snap, snap. Snap, snap. Snap, snap._

The man to her left side-eyes her and she leaves the snaps alone.

She doesn’t knock when she gets to Alex’s apartment. She just stands outside, staring at the little gold numbers screwed into the doorframe. It’s weird to think that she did this exact same thing the last time she was here, only that time she was carrying a pizza and a six pack of Hop Czar.

She finally gathers the courage to knock, and is about to do so when the door swings open.

“Maggie?” Alex steps out. “How long have you been out here?”

“Not long,” Maggie lies. “I was just about to knock. You look beautiful.”

She really does. She’s wearing a slim black backless dress, her hair is shiny and wavy, and her lips are painted a rich shade of red. Maggie suddenly feels anxious. All she wore was a simple white dress and her leather jacket.

But Alex is thanking her for the compliment and pulling on her own jacket and saying how beautiful Maggie looks, too, and the panic is over. Maggie takes her hand (because this is what people do, right? This is romantic affection?) and holds it all the way through the elevator ride, only letting go when they reach her motorcycle. She hands Alex a helmet before securing her own, then climbs onto the bike. Alex hovers, unsure of what to do.

“You gonna stand there all night, Danvers?” Maggie teases. “Here, just climb on. I promise I’m not as scary as I look.”

Alex blushes and seats herself behind Maggie, who takes her arms and wraps them around her own midsection. It feels nice. She’s not sure if it’s supposed to, but she’s been so starved for physical contact lately. Alex tightens her grip and Maggie lets her bike surge forward.

It doesn’t take long for them to reach Sotto, but that doesn’t stop Maggie from enjoying the ride. Every turn she makes, Alex’s hold on her seems to grow tighter. She’s surprised she’s still breathing by the time they park.

“I’ve never been here before,” Alex comments as they’re seated. “I don’t think I’ve even heard of this place.”

“That’s impossible.” Maggie says. “They have the best Italian food in National City. I thought Kara would have been all over this place.”

“Kara has trouble remembering where she eats,” Alex explains. “She can remember Noonan’s and Ayara Thai Cuisine, and that’s about it.”

“Oh. That’s… weird.”

Alex laughs and Maggie laughs with her, and this is nice and actually going _well_ , but then _oh no_ because Alex is taking off her jacket and that means Maggie should probably take hers off, too. And it’s not a big deal, it _shouldn’t be_ , but Maggie _always_ wears this jacket, even at home. She was wearing it when she was just fifteen and it was too big and the sleeves hung past her hands, and she played with the snaps as she came out to her parents. She wore it on her first day of college and she wore it when she finally let herself feel something for Alex.

She leaves it on, and Alex says nothing.

“So, since you’re the Sotto expert, what do you recommend?” Alex asks.

“The pizza is amazing.” Maggie unfolds a menu. “But I always get the fettuccine alfredo.”

“We could share,” Alex suggests. Maggie grins and nods.

They order a margarita pizza and a large plate of pasta. Their waiter, Luca, teases Maggie when she asks him to leave the onions off, like he always does when she asks.

“I seriously cannot believe you’ve never been here,” Maggie says.

“What, you come here often?”

There’s a beat of silence. Then Maggie covers her mouth, laughing.

“Oh my _god_ . Alex, that was _so_ bad.”

“You know that’s not what I meant!”

Maggie continues to laugh. Alex rolls her eyes.

“Tease me all you want, but we both know you were standing outside my door for a lot longer than you’re pretending.”

Maggie stops laughing. “You can’t prove that.”

Their food comes. Maggie breathes in the smell of the pasta, grinning when she notices Alex doing the same. They each take a piece of pizza, and Alex just _melts_ into her seat when she takes a bite. The crust is thin and crisp and the sauce and cheese are perfectly balanced. Maggie finishes her first piece instantly, then reaches for another. Kara would be proud.

“This is incredible.” Alex wipes her mouth with a napkin. “I didn’t think anything could be better than Toni’s.”

“Please.” Maggie scoffs. “There are at least three pizza places in National City that are better than Toni’s.”

Alex rolls her eyes and reaches for the pasta.

They eat and share stories. Alex tells Maggie about her first boyfriend — how much she hated touching him, how she had mistaken friendship for romantic attraction, how they had broken up when she refused to kiss him and how she hadn’t been sad at all, really. Maggie talks about growing up in Nebraska with her dog, Mango. She tells Alex how lonely she was all the time, how nobody wanted to hang out with the tomboy, especially after she came out. Mango had been her only friend from second grade to her junior year of high school. The loneliness had been devastating after his death, but now it’s just another part of her life. Or, it had been until Alex came along.

It’s nine thirty when they head back to Alex’s apartment. Maggie politely declines Alex’s invitation to come inside (because what does that _mean_? Kissing? More?) and bids her goodnight with a kiss to the cheek and a “You’re perfect, Maggie”.

She falls asleep a bit too early and wakes up in the middle of a dream about Mango, and _great_ , now she’s crying. She shouldn’t cry, some people have lost so much more — _Alex_ has lost so much more — but she cries anyway because there’s nobody around to see her fall apart.

That makes her cry harder.

Eventually the tears stop falling and she pulls herself out of bed to start the day.

* * *

Monday brings to her a new case. Adam Warren, an eight-year-old boy, is missing. Maggie sips heavily from her coffee cup as her sergeant briefs the team. Adam’s parents hover nervously over her shoulder, whispering to each other worriedly.

They spend the day out in the woods around the area where Adam disappeared. At ten thirty they call it a night and Maggie heads home, defeated.

Alex texts her a few times, asking where she’s been all day. Maggie tells her she was just working, that they had a late day and that she shouldn’t worry. Alex tells her to get some sleep. Maggie rolls her eyes.

What a nerd.

She tries to sleep this time. Really, she does, but she keeps getting distracted. It's hard to focus on sleeping when sleeping is really just lack of focus. She wonders if Alex ever has this problem, if Alex has ever spent hours trying to keep her eyes _closed_.

Adam Warren smiles at her from the missing flyer on her desk. It's creepy.

She turns the flyer over and closes her eyes.

* * *

The week is exhausting and she hardly gets to see Alex at all. The search for Adam continues to fail and his parents grow more and more worried. Maggie hates that they miss him, hates that a family with so much love for their child has to go through this. She hates that she can't help them, can't find their son, can't _do her fucking job for once_. And yeah, maybe she’s being too hard on herself, but what good is a detective if they can’t detect?

She does get a new lead in the Warren case when she meets with Kara to discus the disappearance of Izzy Williams. Kara’s talking with Mike when Maggie arrives. She waits patiently at the booth until Kara sees her and waves.

“Thanks for meeting me.” Kara says, sliding into the seat across from Maggie.

“Always happy to help a Danvers.” Maggie sets down a flash drive. “Here is the missing persons report on Izzy Williams that we have, but unfortunately it’s not that much.”

“Any little bit helps.”

Maggie shrugs. “Guess so. Y’know, it’s funny you asked for that.”

“Why?”

“We’ve had a spike in missing persons over the last few weeks.”

“Do you have any theories? Serial killer? Kidnappings?”

“Mm, serial killers have patterns, kidnappers have motive. But what’s odd is that there’s nothing to connect these disappearances.”

Kara raises her eyebrows. “Nothing?”

“Nah. There’s Izzy Williams, a father of four, a college student… and then a boy named Adam Warren. He’s actually my case. I was wondering if anyone at CatCo has heard anything.”

Kara shakes her head. “I’m sorry. But maybe if the disappearances are related…”

Maggie nods. “Maybe Adam and Izzy are with each other.”

Kara takes the drive. “I’ll get Winn to look at this. If we find anything, we’ll let you know.”

Maggie snaps and unsnaps her jacket sleeve. “Be safe, Kara.”

* * *

Maggie sighs heavily and tugs her zip up and down, staring up at Alex’s apartment building. A visit had seemed like a good idea earlier, but now she feels awkward and out of place. She probably should’ve called ahead — what if Kara’s already with Alex?

She takes out her phone.

 **Maggie:** you doing anything?

 **Alex:** I can see you out there, Maggie.

Maggie cringes and glances up. Alex waves from the window.

 **Alex:** Come upstairs.

Face burning, Maggie grabs her keys and heads inside. Alex is already standing in the doorframe, smiling, waiting for her.

“Hey, Danvers.” Maggie grins. “I guess you were expecting me.”

“You didn’t have to wait outside, you know.” Alex opens the door wider, letting her pass. “You can come here whenever.”

Maggie sits on one of Alex’s counter stools. “Pretty generous invitation.”

“Yeah, well…” Alex shrugs and joins Maggie at the counter. “I mean it.”

“Thanks.” Maggie’s smile falls a bit.

“Hey,” Alex nudges Maggie’s shoulder. “You okay? You’ve been acting kinda weird lately.”

Maggie shakes her head, shrugging out of her jacket. “Don’t worry about me. I’m just tired. I woke up early.”

“You really should get some sleep.”

“I don’t have time.”

“We have time right now.”

Maggie grins and flops back onto the couch. Alex falls next to her and she leans closer, resting her head against her girlfriend’s neck. The day’s tensions slowly drain from Alex’s body, and soon she’s asleep. It’s easy to tell — her breathing slows to a steady pace and her heart beats more calmly. Maggie stays awake, though. Just for a few minutes.

She thinks about how nice Alex’s skin feels under hers. She thinks about how nice it is to breathe in time with someone she cares about. She thinks about how _right_ this feels — no boundaries, no rules, just her and Alex, existing together.

She thinks she’s starting to get it.

* * *

Maggie wakes up first. It’s late — the sun shines through the windows, bathing everything in light and turning Alex’s hair into a dark reddish-brown. Maggie twirls a lock of it between her fingers absently.

She’s tempted to stay in bed, but she knows Alex will be getting up soon and she also knows what Alex is like before she’s had her morning coffee, so she swings herself out of bed, changes into some of Alex’s clothes, and pads softly over to the kitchen.

She’s pouring the coffee when Alex starts to stir.

“You’re wearing my t-shirt.”

Maggie glances down. “Yeah, is that okay?”

“That’s amazing.” Alex laughs lightly. “I mean, like, you’re in my apartment and it’s- it’s morning and you _slept_ in my apartment and now you’re wearing my t-shirt and making coffee and I can’t believe this is happening and everything coming out my mouth is very cliché.”

“It’s called being happy, get used to it, Danvers.” Maggie grins. Alex leans forward and Maggie kisses her gently.

Maggie smiles as Alex pulls back. “I think I am getting- getting used to it.”

Maggie smiles wider.

Despite Alex’s protests, they do eventually go into work. Kara hasn’t contacted her since their brainstorm at the alien bar, but Maggie’s got a few more leads to follow up on. She’s glad to have something to keep her busy — the morning with Alex had been incredible, and she doesn’t think she can stand sitting still. The coffee, the kiss, the entire _night_ … It had all been like a scene from one of the bad romance movies Maggie’s college roommate used to make her watch. She wonders what it felt like for Alex.

She kicks herself. _Not a good thing to think about_.

And it’s not like she’s worried. Not _really_ . But it’s a little anxiety inducing, being the “experienced” one in the relationship. So far they’ve had almost nothing but good moments, but what when someone does something wrong? What when _Maggie_ does something wrong?

She’s not perfect. Nobody is. But Alex doesn’t seem to know that.

So there’s a lot of pressure riding on Maggie’s shoulders. Pressure to be worth something.

Maggie closes her eyes and shakes her head. She’ll try. _Try_.

For Alex.

Her team sweeps the woods again. Nothing. She sighs and pulls out her phone.

 **Maggie:** nothing new on the warren case. has kara found anything?

When no reply comes, she takes her motorcycle back to the station. Cruz helps her interview the family, but three hours later they’re no closer to finding Adam than they were at the start of the day, and neither Alex nor Kara have contacted her. Alex hasn’t even read her earlier message.

“What’s wrong, Sawyer?” Cruz joins her at the desk.

“Nothing.”

“You sure? ‘Cause you’ve been glaring at your phone for the past eight minutes.”

“I’m sure.”

Cruz shakes her head. “Girlfriend problems?”

“She’s not answering.”

“Maybe she’s busy?”

Maggie sighs. “Maybe.”

“I’m sorry, Maggie, that sucks.” Cruz glances at her watch. “Mind if I take my lunch break early? I gotta stop by the hospital to grab my hormones.”

“Sure.” Maggie glances at Adam’s family, who are anxiously whispering to each other. “I think we’re done for now, anyway.”

“See you.”

“Bye.”

* * *

Maggie takes a late lunch break to visit Alex.

Technically she’s not allowed into the DEO, but all the security guards know who she is and let her pass without question. Alex is standing by Winn, looking worried.

“Hey.” She says when she notices Maggie. “What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t returning my texts or calls.” Maggie explains. “I was worried.”

“Ah,” Alex sighs. “I- I’ve been busy, I’m sorry.”

Maggie raises her eyebrows in confusion. “Is this a bad time?”

“Yeah, it is. Um. Kind of.” Alex glances behind her. “Supergirl is missing.”

“Well, if anyone can find her it’s you.” Maggie tries.

“I knew this was gonna happen, I _knew_ it.”

Maggie blinks. Alex seems… almost angry.

“What are you talking about?” She asks carefully.

“I was happy for, like, _five minutes_.” Alex spits.

Maggie shakes her head. “ _What?_ ”

“I’m sorry, this- this was a mistake.” Alex’s expression saddens, then hardens again. “I’m sorry, you have to go. I’m sorry, I… I can’t.”

Maggie opens her mouth to argue, but she can see that Alex’s mind is already made up.

“Okay.” She inhales shakily. “Got it. See you, Danvers.”

And she’s turning away, and she’s leaving…

And Alex doesn’t call her back.

* * *

She sits at her desk and brings up Kara Danvers’ Instagram page, then images of Supergirl. There’s no doubt now — they’re the same person. Alex’s sister is Supergirl.

So…

That’s cool…

It doesn’t really to matter now, though. Alex is giving up on them, giving up on Maggie. And of course she knows it’s not her fault, but she’s been burned before and this feels just as awful.

Maybe if she hadn’t been such an idiot… Maybe if she’d kissed Alex the first time, instead of rejecting her…

But maybe it wouldn’t have mattered at all.

She sighs and closes the pages before anyone else can see. Stupid, stupid, stupid. The whole idea of romance is just _stupid_ . Romance and affection and— and _love_ are just distractions. She can’t afford any more distractions. She needs to focus on Adam.

Unfortunately, thinking about Adam leads her to thinking about Kara and how Adam and Izzy could be together. She hasn’t said anything to her boss — even before, she’d had her suspicions about Kara’s identity and who would really be conducting the Izzy Williams case. The DEO, that is. Anyway, her boss is in the dark and growing more frustrated by the hour, and Maggie wonders if Kara — if _Supergirl_ — went missing while looking for Izzy.

That would be _great_. Her ex’s sister going missing all because she couldn’t solve her own case.

No wonder Alex is giving up on her.

She groans. It’s time to work. She can feel sorry for herself later.

Cruz must sense that something’s wrong, because she offers to do the paperwork so Maggie can do some work in the forensics lab. Maggie gratefully accepts, glad to have something to focus on.

Isaac and Amara, the lab supervisors, grant her access to everything they have on the Warren/missing persons case. It’s not much, but she refuses to let that deter her. They’ve got a sample of Adam’s DNA, a rough three-point geographic map of the area with the most disappearances, and a half-loaded pistol that was found buried in the forest (recently, though the pistol has no fingerprints).

“Where could this kid have gone?” Amara asks, handing Maggie an elastic. “He’s eight. None of the others were even close to that age.”

“Maybe it’s not related,” Maggie suggests. “Cruz said something earlier about a pedophilic neighbor.”

“Hank Asher.” Amara points to Isaac, who pulls up a man’s mugshot. “We interviewed him a few times, but we’ve got nothing.”

“Besides, Warren disappeared right in the middle of the triangle.” Isaac opens the map on a new screen. “That can’t be a coincidence.”

Maggie sighs. “So what’s the plan? Sweep again?”

“There’s already a team out there,” Amara says. “You and I are going trace this gun.”

“Get ready, Sawyer,” Isaac warns, “it ain’t gonna be easy.”

Maggie grins and begins to tie her hair back. “I’m always up for a challenge.”

* * *

They work for hours, tracing the pistol back to a gun show, then to a thrift shop, then to an apartment building in central California. But the owners of the gun know nothing useful, only that their house was robbed a few months ago when they were on vacation and the gun had been missing when they returned. There’s a file from the robbery, so their story checks out.

In other words, they’re back to having nothing.

When Maggie gets home she’s exhausted and hurt and really she just wants to sleep for the next few days. But no sooner has she curled up on her couch than Alex texts, practically _begging_ for her to come over.

She sighs and gets her jacket, gets her keys, gets on her bike and gets herself together. She knocks twice, gently.

Alex peeks out from behind the door. “Thank you for coming.”

“I almost didn’t,” Maggie admits. Alex opens the door a bit wider, and she steps inside.

“I just,” Maggie throws up her arms. “I don’t- I don’t think you’re ready for this.”

“No.” Alex shakes her head frantically. “No, I am. I just- I just went kind of crazy, and I just feel like the universe is just magically smacking me down from being happy.”

Maggie waits, but nothing else comes. “That’s it?” She prompts. “You gotta give me more than that.”

Alex sighs deeply.

“I have always felt so… _responsible_ . Like… like, _weight of the world responsible_ . And my parents always relied on me to watch over my sister, so the few times that I _ever_ did _anything_ for myself, it ended badly.

“And then Supergirl went missing, and I just… I blew a gasket, I just—”

“Because Supergirl’s your sister.”

Alex freezes. “What are you talking about?”

Maggie scoffs, because _honestly_ , she’s surprised all of National City hasn’t figured it out by now. But she knows saying this will send Alex into a panic spiral, so she just shakes her head.

“Come on,” she says. “Look, I know you. The only person you get that torn up over is Kara.”

Alex stares blankly.

“Plus, the glasses don’t help.”

“I…” Alex takes a deep breath. “I always said that, too. It’s… it’s kind of ridiculous.”

Maggie smiles.

“I’m glad that you know.” Alex admits. “Because I don’t want there to be any secrets.”

Maggie gives her a barely-visible nod. “Bad stuff happens,” she says. “In our line of work, it happens all the time. How do I know you’re not gonna run the next time it does?”

 _Give me something, Danvers_ , she thinks. _Please_.

“I won’t.” Alex promises. “I’m sorry. I just wanna be happy… with you.”

Maggie’s heart flutters, and _no, no, romance is bad, romance ends in hurt_ , but it doesn’t help because she’s letting her gaze soften and she’s smiling gently and—

“You get _one_ , Danvers.”

Alex nods again, earnestly. “Understood.”

Maggie sighs shakily and pulls Alex into her arms, holding on tighter than she probably should. _This is supposed to be a good thing._

“Thank you.”

* * *

“Maggie!” Kara bounds up. “What are you doing here?”

Maggie shrugs and holds up a paper bag. “Brought your sister some lunch. They gave me ground-level DEO access.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh!” Kara exclaims. “I forgot to tell you. I found most of the missing people. And the kid you were looking for, the Adam guy?”

A bolt of lightning shoots up Maggie’s spine. She stands straight, readying herself for what Kara’s about to tell her.

“What about Adam?” She asks carefully.

“He wasn’t there.”

* * *

Maggie crawls into bed late that night, head spinning and footsteps heavy. She lies still, staring straight up. The paint is chipping off of her ceiling, falling around the room like snowflakes. She knows she could fix it — knows she probably should — but it seems so pointless at this point. If she paints it now it will just chip again in a few months and she’ll have to do everything over again.

The red light from her alarm clock glares at her in her peripheral vision. She turns away, stares out her window into National City. Things seem so much different out there, so much harder and yet so much better. She kind of hates her apartment, anyway, with all its creaking floorboards and dusty bookshelves. She thinks, for a second, about how nice it would be to escape into the mess of paved roads and skyscrapers, and to just _disappear_. Just for a little.

She can’t, though. They would find her.

The weight of responsibility — responsibility to fix things, to know things, to be things — sits heavy on her shoulders, crushing her. It makes her feel too small, yet still too easily found.

Maggie closes her eyes and wishes she could disappear.


	2. from hell she can rise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kara finds a dog. maggie finds a solution.

Alex knows something’s up. Maggie can tell. Whenever they’re together, Alex insists on being as close as possible, constantly offering her support. And sometimes it’s nice to have someone who’s willing to do that. And sometimes it isn’t.

“Jesus, Danvers, I said I’m _fine_!” Maggie huffs. Alex freezes and stares at Maggie in wordless, wide-eyed shock.

“Right,” she whispers. “Sorry.”

“No, I-” Maggie sighs and shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you, that was really shitty of me.”

“It’s okay,” Alex tries.

“No, it’s not.” Maggie wrings her hands together. “That wasn’t fair, you were just trying to help. I won’t do it again.”

“Okay. Thank you. Do you want to talk about it?”

Maggie nods and Alex pulls out a chair, motioning for her to sit. She doesn’t speak for a few minutes, trying to gather her thoughts as Alex’s fingers gently comb through her hair.

“I just feel worthless sometimes, you know?” She confesses. “Like I could disappear and it wouldn’t matter at all. And when I think about it like that, it just seems like I don’t matter. Like there’s no point in me being alive.”

“Maggie…”

“And it’s not just that. Sometimes I just feel this irrational hatred towards absolutely everything. I don’t know why, it just happens. And after I calm down I always want to… disappear, I guess. So I hide until everything’s back to normal.”

“God,” Alex breathes. “How long?”

“What?”

“How long ago did this start?”

Maggie’s forehead creases. “I don’t know.”

“Well…” Alex’s stops combing and takes a seat next to Maggie. “First, I want you to know that you matter a lot. To me and to Kara and Winn and James and J’onn. And we all care about you and love that you exist. And second, do you think you would be okay talking to someone else about this? A professional?”

“A therapist?”

“You don’t have to. I won’t make you, I promise. I just think it might make you feel better.”

Maggie pulls at her sleeve, popping the snaps. As a general rule, she doesn’t do therapy. It seems too personal, and it’s weird that someone’s being paid to listen to her problems and try to label her dysfunctionalities. But Alex is trying, really trying to make her feel better, so she shrugs and says she’ll think about it.

She does think about it. She thinks about it a lot, actually, and Isaac notices.

“What’s up with you, Sawyer?” He asks. “I haven’t seen you this distracted in a while.”

Maggie shrugs. “Just thinking.”

“Yeah?” Isaac pushes his chair away from his desk and rolls over to hers. “About what?”

“Have you ever been to therapy?” Maggie asks after a few seconds of thought.

“Yeah.” Isaac nods. “A couple times.”

“And did it help?” Maggie asks. “With… whatever you were going through?”

“It saved my marriage,” Isaac admits. “Helped me get sober after I lost my brother in Iraq. Cruz used to go, too, I think.”

“Where did I go?” Cruz shouts from across the room.

“Therapy,” Isaac shouts back. Cruz nods and turns her attention back to her computer.

“Why d’you wanna know?” Isaac asks. “Something wrong?”

“Nothing new,” Maggie quips. “Just… wondering if it would help me.”

“I think therapy can help anyone,” Isaac says. “Even if they seem okay, even if they don’t think they need it, talking to someone can really make you feel better.”

Maggie blinks a few times. “Oh.”

* * *

Alex is watching an old Modern Family rerun when she gets to the apartment. Maggie settles in next to her on the couch.

“I think I want to go.” She announces during a commercial break. “To therapy, I mean.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I talked to some people… They said it helped.”

Alex smiles. “Okay. We can set up an appointment with Kara’s old therapist if you want. She was really good. She helped Kara adjust after she… lost her parents and everything.”

“Sure.”

“I’ll see when she’s available.” Alex grabs her phone and stands. “Hey, I’m really proud of you for doing this.”

And then she’s gone and Maggie’s left alone on the couch. There’s a strange feeling just beside her sternum, a kind of warmth that seems to be spreading, radiating out from her chest and pulsing through her veins. It’s pleasant, in a way. Calming.

“Maggie?” Alex sticks her head into the room. “Did you hear me? She said she can meet tomorrow if you’re up for it.”

“Yeah.” Maggie takes a shaky breath and nods. “Okay.”

* * *

“Hey.”

Maggie looks up from her book and finds Alex staring up from her lap. “Hey. What’s up? I thought you wanted to sleep.”

“I do. Your sweater keeps hitting me.”

“Oh.” Maggie pulls the sweater off and sets it to the side. “Better?”

“I guess. I’m awake now, anyway.”

“Go back to sleep, Alex, it’s barely five,” Maggie says. “I’ve got my book, anyway.”

Alex yawns and shakes her head. “No, I’m up. I’ll just make us some coffee and we can start the day.”

“You’re not gonna make your gross full-black coffee, are you?”

“Stop whining, I’ll put some cream in yours.”

Maggie grins and shifts to the side so Alex can get up. The cold air hits her bare legs and she shivers, reaches down to pull the blanket over herself. Despite the chill, her body is still warm, at peace and softened from whatever feelings Alex had managed to bring out in her during their conversation the night before.

“You want anything else while I’m up?” Alex asks. “Bagel? Orange?”

“Orange, please,” Maggie requests.

“Coming right up, miss.” Alex gives her a quick kiss and pads softly to the kitchen. On the bedside table, Maggie’s phone buzzes three times in quick succession—the precinct alert. Sergeant Jacobs wants her to come in at six to talk. Maggie briefly wonders what kind of life her Sergeant is living where he’s awake at five in the morning, but honestly she barely gets any sleep herself, so she doesn’t have a lot of self-care high ground to stand on. Besides, she’s too curious about what she’s being called in early for to think about Jacobs’s sleep routine.

“Coffee for the lady.” Alex shuffles in and hands Maggie a cup. “And an orange, as promised.”

“Mm, thank you.” Maggie takes a sip. The coffee is still too bitter for her taste, but she drinks it anyway and tries not to cringe. Her phone buzzes again and Alex looks at it questioningly.

“Sergeant wants me to come in early,” Maggie explains.

“How early?”

“Six.”

“That’s rough.” Alex takes a bite of her own orange. “You want a ride?”

Maggie shakes her head.

“Remember, your appointment is at five. Do you think you can get out that early?”

“I’m going in at six, they have to let me out at five,” Maggie says. “It’s common courtesy.”

“I don’t think your boss cares about common courtesy, Mags.” Alex laughs. “Speaking of which, why does he want you in so early?”

“Probably to tell me that I’m fired.” Maggie shrugs. “I probably screwed something up and didn’t realize it.”

“Hey, no.” Alex drops her orange and takes Maggie’s face between her hands. “None of that. It’s gonna be fine, I promise.”

Maggie nods halfheartedly. “And I’ll be at the therapist’s office at five. Promise.”

* * *

Jacobs greets her with a booming “Sawyer!”

“Sergeant,” Maggie replies. “You wanted to see me?”

“I thought I should tell you before the others find out.” He takes a step closer, lowering his voice. “We’re closing the Warren case.”

“You’re…” Maggie’s jaw falls slack. “You can’t. He could still be out there, we can find him if you just give us a little more-”

“Time?” Jacobs interrupts. “It’s been months, detective. I’ve given you nothing but time.”

“We don’t have a conviction,” Maggie tries.

“Exactly—you never got me one.”

“Sergeant-”

Jacobs shakes his head. “Sorry, Sawyer. You gotta know when to stop searching.”

Maggie grits her teeth and storms back to her desk. Isaac gives her a sympathetic look.

“Closing the case?” He asks.

“We didn’t even get a conviction.”

“Sorry, Maggie.”

Maggie shakes her head and leans back against her desk. “Whatever, it’s fine. Jacobs is right, Warren’s probably dead, anyway.”

Isaac gives her a strange look. She turns away and logs into her computer before he can ask her anything stupid.

Jacobs briefs people as they trickle into the precinct. Maggie receives a few more apologetic looks, even some words of sympathy. She glares at her computer screen after Tupeh tells her he’s “sorry it didn’t work out.”

“You a’ite, Sawyer?” Cruz asks. “You look like you wanna kill someone.”

“Fine,” Maggie mumbles. “Hey, I’ve got a thing at five. You think Jacobs will let me leave?”

“I’ll cover for you if he doesn’t,” Isaac offers. “I’ve got nothing to do this evening, anyway.”

“No, that’s fine,” Maggie shakes her head. “I really don’t want to-”

“Relax, Mags,” Isaac spins in his chair. “I’m serious, it’s no problem.”

Maggie’s shoulders drop a bit in relief. “Thank you.”

She heads out at four thirty and makes it to the address Alex gave her by five. The building is small and sort of looks like it was built from a child’s oversized building blocks, but the waiting room is warm. She takes a seat close to the door and looks around. Aside from the mental health posters and the uncomfortable chairs, the place doesn’t actually look like a waiting room. The walls are painted a light blue that reminds Maggie of her childhood bedroom and there’s a large table off to the side where two old men are playing chess. A little girl, probably around five years old, taps her foot impatiently as her mother pours herself a coffee. The man next to them stares intently at the muted television, muttering quietly to himself. Maggie catches _end the day_ and _what will become of him_ , but before he can say more his name is called and he follows his therapist away.

Maggie shivers. This place, despite its attempts to be comforting, makes her feel unwelcome; out of place. She feels the urge to tug at her jacket, to hear the zipper’s teeth or the popping of snaps, but the young girl has stopped tapping her foot and the room has fallen back into a silence that she would rather not be the one to break. She takes out her phone to check the time and puts it back in her pocket, only to take it out again to send Alex a quick _made it here alive, miss you_ text. Alex responds with _I’m proud of you, I’ll be there when you get out_ followed by a series of x’s and o’s. Maggie rolls her eyes. _Dork_.

“Maggie Sawyer?”

Maggie looks up from her phone and finds a tall blonde smiling at her from the hall. Maggie raises her eyebrows—she doesn’t know what she was expecting, but it wasn’t this—but gets up and follows the lady down the hall. They stop at a doorless room at the end of the hall. The blonde steps to the side, sweeping her arm out in invitation. Maggie steps inside and looks around curiously. The room is similar in many ways to the waiting room; it has the same blue walls, the same high ceilings and even some of the same paintings. It’s much smaller, though, and there are no gray plastic chairs, only a couch and a pair of cushioned armchairs.

“So,” the blonde takes a seat in one of the chairs, “Why don’t we begin? I’m sure you’re a busy woman.”

“Uh…” Maggie shrugs and sits in the second chair. “Yeah, I guess.”

“My name is Doctor Gerber. I’ve been a therapist for about sixteen years now.”

“I’m Maggie,” Maggie says uncertainly. “I’m a cop. Um, a detective, actually.”

Doctor Gerber nods. “And how long have you been a detective?”

“Maybe a year?” Maggie scratches nervously at her arm. “I’m not sure, I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay.” Doctor Gerber gives her a warm smile. “You were a cop, though. Before they promoted you.”

“Yes,” Maggie confirms. “I always wanted to be a detective, though. Even growing up.”

“And why is that?”

“I don’t know. I guess I just always wanted to make an impact. I wanted to be proud of what I had done.”

“And are you?” Doctor Gerber asks. “Are you proud of what you’ve done?”

Maggie shrugs. “I haven’t done many things to be proud of.”

“I’m sure that’s not true. Alex tells me you’re pretty amazing.”

Maggie’s eyebrows raise. “Alex talked about me?”

“Just a bit. Honestly I think she’d talk to everyone about you if she could. I’m happy for you two.”

“Thank you.”

Doctor Gerber continues to ask about her job, then her friends, then her family. They talk about virtually every part of Maggie’s life where she interacts with other people. Maggie talks about her promotion, being outed to her family, and (reluctantly) the recent closing of the Warren case.

“Do you believe that Adam is still out there?” Doctor Gerber asks.

“I…” Maggie’s brow creases. “I want to.”

“But?”

“But I know the odds. He’s been gone for months, there’s barely even a chance that he’s still alive.”

Doctor Gerber hums. “That’s a pretty dark way of looking at it.”

“They train us to see things based on the facts.”

Gerber sits back in her chair and glances at the paper on the coffee table. “Why did you come here, Maggie?”

Maggie blinks in confusion. “I… what?”

“Why are you here?”

“Alex thought it would help.”

“But what did _you_ think?” She presses. “Why are you here?”

“I…” Maggie takes a deep breath. “I came here because I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

“Like what?”

Maggie shrugs. “Angry. Worthless.”

Gerber nods, satisfied. Maggie takes another breath, then lets it out in a huff. For a moment, the room is perfectly still.

“Here’s what I think.” She says finally. “From what you’ve told me, you’re  very serious about your job. As a member if the NCPD, you’re almost constantly in danger and you don’t seem to mind. You’re angry at yourself because you think you aren’t good enough, and that anger is often directed at others. And after stressful situations you often feel expendable; worthless.”

“Okay.” Maggie’s voice is small. “So?”

Something flashes in Gerber’s eyes—sadness, maybe—but she hands Maggie the paper she’s been scribbling on.

“So I think you may have borderline personality disorder.”

* * *

Alex is waiting for her when she gets out. Doctor Gerber waves from the doorway, but (at Maggie’s request) doesn’t walk over to talk to Alex.

(“I just want to tell her myself.” Maggie had lied. Gerber had nodded and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. Maggie had tried not to flinch.)

Neither Maggie nor Alex had thought to take the car that morning, so they drive back separately. Maggie is grateful to be spared from Alex’s questions and curious glasses. It doesn’t last long, though.

“So?” Alex asks gently as they climb the stairs. “How was it?”

“Fine.”

“That’s um…” Alex thinks for a second. “That’s good, right?”

“Yep.”

Alex’s face falls a bit and Maggie wants to kick herself. Some girlfriend she is, practically begging for help and then being a bitch when it’s offered.

“It was different than I thought it would be,” Maggie admits.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Did she say anything?” Alex pauses at her door. “About what might be…”

 _Wrong_. The word hangs in the air much longer than Maggie would like.

“Just stress,” she lies. “She taught me some breathing exercises.

“Stress,” Alex echos. Maggie nods and hates herself, because Alex looks so _uncertain_ but they both know she won’t question it. She trusts Maggie enough to let it go, and Maggie’s taking advantage of that.

In reality, she knows Alex will figure it out (she’s a freaking DEO agent for fuck’s sake) but she hopes to distract her long enough for her to be able to get rid of the small orange pills rattling quietly in her pocket.

Alex unlocks the door and Maggie breathes a quiet sigh of relief, glad that the interrogation seems to be over. Alex still looks unsure, but doesn’t say anything when Maggie excuses herself to the bathroom.

The door clicks shut and Maggie shakily takes the white plastic pill bottle from her pocket. The pills rattle against each other and Maggie sighs heavily. Filling out the forms for the prescription had been one of Maggie’s most humiliating moments. Her ears had burned as she accepted the pills from the pharmacist (though honestly he’d looked like he couldn’t care less) and she’d immediately shoved them into her pocket. She’d planned to get rid of them as soon as she got a chance, but now that she can…

She grits her teeth and glares at the bottle. She _hates_ that she needs medicine—needs _help_ —to be okay, but she hates how she’s been acting lately (how she’s been _feeling_ lately) even more.

If there’s even a chance that they could help…

Alex is standing by the microwave when Maggie returns. The kitchen smells like vegan lasagna. Maggie chuckles and Alex spins around, grinning.

“Vegan lasagna?” Maggie asks teasingly.

“Mm, I figured you deserved something nice. I imagine today hasn’t been very fun.”

Maggie gives Alex a quick kiss. “Thank you.”

They’re sitting on the couch eating their respective dinners (Alex had refused to eat Maggie’s lasagna because “it tastes worse than your cooking” to which Maggie had responded by flicking a spoonful of sauce in her girlfriend’s general direction) when Maggie brings up the appointment again.

“I lied earlier,” she admits. “About what Doctor Gerber said.”

Alex sets down her plate and wipes off her hands. “I could kind of tell.”

Maggie’s shoulders sink. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Alex shrugs. “I figured you needed some time to process things.”

“Are you mad?”

“Of course not.”

Maggie stares down at her plate, frowning. Alex sighs and takes Maggie’s hands.

“You won’t want to talk to me about everything, you know,” she whispers. “But I am always here for you when you do.”

Maggie nods and Alex squeezes her hands gently. There are no questions, no accusations, only the sound of the city drifting through the thin apartment walls.

“She thinks I have borderline personality disorder,” Maggie whispers. “We did some tests… she gave me some pills.”

Alex continues to rub circles onto the backs of Maggie’s hands.

“I wanted to throw them away,” she continues. “I almost did. I-” she chokes back a sob, “I hate this.”

“Hey.” Alex drops MAggie’s hands and pulls her into a hug. “You’re gonna be fine. This is okay, this doesn’t change anything. You’re still you.”

“I hate this.” Maggie repeats tearily.

“I know, I know.” Alex strokes her hair. “You’re gonna feel better soon, I promise.”

* * *

Maggie takes the pills.

They’re awful. They taste like talc and they’re too big for her to comfortably swallow, and they keep her awake for hours if she doesn’t remember to take them at exactly seven thirty each night. They’re awful and she hates them and she takes them anyway.

And they work.

They take some of the weight off of her shoulders and they relieve the harsh, burning anger she’s harbored in her chest for so long. She no longer feels like disappearing.

Most of the time.

The medicine isn’t magic, though, and it’s not perfect. It doesn’t make her want to get up in the morning. It doesn’t fix the nervous dread that sweeps through her when Alex is out fighting aliens without her. If anything, it makes it worse.

She has some really bad days.

A few weeks after her first appointment with Doctor Gerber, Maggie doesn’t get out of bed at all. Her alarm goes off and is quickly silenced; her phone buzzes and is ignored (and eventually turned off completely). She doesn’t sleep, only stares stoically at the chipping paint.

Her antisocial stasis is interrupted by the sound of keys in the front door. Whoever’s trying to get in seems to be failing pretty miserably—Alex, then. She almost laughs. Alex, her left-handed dork.

“Maggie?” Alex calls when she finally gets inside. “Isaac called. He said you never showed up for work.”

Maggie hears her girlfriend’s footsteps patter quietly around the living room, then down the hallway until she’s at the bedroom door.

“Oh.”

They don’t talk much. Alex goes through the usual “are you okay” interrogation and climbs into bed beside Maggie when she just shivers and shakes her head _no_. Alex is warm and soft and comforting, and Maggie melts into it because this is honestly the nicest thing she’s done in weeks. They stay like that, silently pressed together under the chipping paint of a falling sky, until Maggie’s stomach growls out a reminder that she hasn’t eaten in hours. Despite her protests, she’s pushed out of bed and into the kitchen, still wrapped in the mass of blankets she’s managed to attain over the years, and before she knows it Alex is presenting her with a plate of mashed potatoes and corn biscuits that they both know came out of a cardboard box. They eat on the couch again, propriety be damned, and Alex takes it upon herself to fill the silence with anecdotes about Kara’s first few years on Earth.

When their stomachs are full and they’ve cleared their plates, Maggie does have to admit that she feels better. Better in the sense that the overwhelming feelings of pointlessness have retreated back into the shadowy corners of her mind, but worse in the sense that she can now clearly see what she’s been doing all day: wallowing in her room like a child.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call.” Her shoulders sink as she thinks back on the day, thinks about how she probably worried the few people that care about her.

“I was worried,” Alex admits, and _yep_ , Maggie was right, “but I don’t blame you.”

She reaches forward and tucks a strand of hair behind Maggie’s ear. “You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

“I hate the medicine.” Maggie vaguely points in the pills’ general direction. “It helps, a lot, but when it wears off I feel so _off balance_. Like I haven’t been the one living my life for the last twelve hours.”

“Have you told Doctor Gerber?” Alex asks. Maggie shakes her head.

“Maggie,” Alex chastises, “she can help you. I know it sucks and I know you hate it—”

“But it will be good for me,” Maggie finishes for her. “I know, I’m sorry. I’ll… I’ll do it tomorrow?”

“I won’t make you.”

“I know. But I will.”

* * *

She leaves the therapist’s office with yet another bottle of pills (which, yeah, she kind of hates but is also kind of hoping works better than the last one) and a vaguely removed desire to do some research. The detective in her wants to learn, to find new information on whatever the fuck’s been screwing with her recently, while the tiny sliver of self-preserving sanity she has left argues that it will never make her feel better; it will probably make her feel worse.

In the end, she lets her curiosity take control of her, though she limits herself to reliable websites and others’ experiences. And she was right, it doesn’t make her feel better, especially when she sees “chronic: can be lifelong” painted in pixels across her computer screen. But at the same time, she feels a bit more secure knowing that she isn’t alone in this.

Alex stops by during lunch hour, ready to listen in case Maggie feels like spilling her heart in the middle of the Science Division precinct. She doesn’t, though, and Alex ends up telling stories of the DEO’s morning chaos. Apparently Kara had found a stray dog tied in a bag and thrown in a dumpster during her rounds of the city and it had taken half of her closest agent friends to console her as she’d bathed and fed her new friend, all the while frowning and asking the closest person around “who could do something like this?” while the dog had caused nonstop trouble for Winn and the other techies.

By the end of the story Maggie is grinning so hard her face is beginning to hurt (she bursts out laughing after Alex tells her how the dog had refused to stop following Vasquez around, even after she’d threatened to set it loose on Kara’s wardrobe) and her spirits are notably lifted.

“You look happy,” Isaac comments when Alex has reluctantly left for work.

“I am happy.” Maggie shoves a forkful of Alex’s leftover salad in her mouth. “What do I normally look like?”

Isaac thinks for a second. “You heard of Oscar the Grouch?”

Maggie gasps in faux offense and Cruz bursts out laughing.

* * *

Little by little, things start to go away.

Bad things. Dark things. Things she’s glad to be rid of.

It starts as a small stirring in her chest during game night, when Alex is pressed against her side on the loveseat and Kara is practically screaming as James attempts to convey “electric blanket” through a thirty second drawing that admittedly looks a lot like a smiley-faced paper with a few sad, bent exclamation points. Kara throws her hands up in defeat as the timer runs out and James sighs deeply and runs a hand over his scalp, and _no, Kara, those are lightning bolts. Because it’s an_ electric _blanket!_

And the stirring turns to a friction, a warmth that seeps through her veins to the tips of her fingers, a warmth that’s eerily similar to the feeling she’d had when Alex had gone out of her way to help her feel better the day before her first therapy appointment.

It happens again when James offers to host game night at his place next week and makes sure she knows that she’s invited, and again when Jacobs takes a stand on LGBT+ rights when the entire precinct knows that before Maggie joined the team, he’d cared as much about gay rights as children care about tying their shoelaces. And eventually the warmth isn’t an event, just a feeling, smooth and omnipresent, even on her bad days.

Maggie kinds of loves it.

* * *

The ceiling gets a new coat of paint.

Alex’s grin stretches from ear to ear when Maggie is forced to stand on the top rung of the stepladder just to reach the corners of the room. Maggie rolls her eyes and focuses on the task at hand, careful to keep the paint away from the sleeves of her jacket. Kara hovers nervously beside her, holding the paint in one hand and the side of the ladder in another. Maggie can hear Jess and Lena playing happily with Kara’s rescue dog in the living room, James and Winn making bets about which one of them will eventually adopt the dog (“Papaya,” Kara had decided after less than three minutes of deliberation) when Kara’s landlord inevitably finds out.

“Mags?” Alex asks. “You okay? You’ve been painting the same place for a while now.”

Maggie looks up, and yes, the ceiling is done and she’s just been smearing blue over blue, lost in her thoughts.

“Just thinking.” She steps down from the ladder and looks back up at their work.

“It looks good,” Kara says.

“It does.”

“Can I go play with Papaya now?”

Maggie snorts and nods and Kara zooms out the door at a speed that’s _just a bit_ too fast to be human. Alex laughs and swings her arm around Maggie’s shoulders, leading her out to the living room where Kara and Papaya seem to be making themselves comfortable on the floor. Lena’s kneeling next to them, face scrunched into a smile as she watches them play, and Jess and James are filming while Winn commentates. Alex pulls her close, lips pressing gently against her temple.

“What do you think?” She asks. “How are you feeling?”

Maggie smiles, leaning closer. How is she feeling? Stable. Useful. Like she finally matters to someone.

“Happy,” she decides.

Yeah.

Happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y i k e s.  
> this shit was so all over the place, i'm cringing already and i haven't even posted it yet. whatever, i hope someone enjoys. as always, find me on tumblr at [lxnaluthor](lxnaluthor.tumblr.com).

**Author's Note:**

> lmao i'm such a bad writer, pray for me.  
> unrelated but you can find me on tumblr @lxnaluthor


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